


Maybe

by sapiens



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anxiety, Asexuality Spectrum, Character Study, Character Study of Poe Dameron, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Guilt, Leia is exasperated, M/M, Multi, NOT POE/KYLO REN just to be clear, OT3, Pansexual Character, Poe Dameron being a stubborn little shit, Poe Dameron's Journey of Self Discovery also known as a Midlife Crisis, Poe-centric, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Discovery, What else is new, jedistormpilot, we're talking like Poe/Ben Solo back in the day before Ben lost his shit and went to the dark side
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-11 13:02:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5627533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapiens/pseuds/sapiens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Maybe</em>, he thinks for the first time, <em>this isn’t all his fault</em>.</p><p>The guilt in his stomach answers back, fighting that notion, stomach clenching and nausea overcoming his senses. Something deep inside him laughs, dark, and Poe thinks that he still can’t justify forgiving himself.</p><p><em>Maybe</em>, he thinks instead, <em>it’s time to ask for help</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. something my soul needs

Muscles stiff with exhaustion, Poe exits the conference room on D’Qar. He rolls his shoulders, wincing as something cracks, the sharp pain immediately giving way to relief. The relief is short lived when General Organa catches up to him, thwarting his hurried exit at the end of the meeting. “Commander Dameron.” General Organa says, voice sharp and demanding in the quiet of the corridor.

Poe hoists his helmet up higher under his arm and keeps walking, purposefully quickening his pace so that General Organa has to walk twice as fast to keep up with him. Deep down, he knows what this is about, and he fears the impending conversation that has to happen between the two of them. His fears are realized when General Organa grabs his elbow, and says in a softer voice, “Poe, please.”

The pleading voice is not the one of General Organa, his commander--it’s the one of Leia, his parents’ closest friend. Poe stops, not because he wants to, but because it is the right thing to do. He can’t meet the open, vulnerable look she is giving him, so he focuses his gaze somewhere just over her shoulder. The unmistakable feeling of guilt shared between the two of them weighs him down. “With all due respect, General, can we postpone this conversation until after I’ve slept?” Poe compromises, knowing full well that he won’t sleep, and that he’ll put off speaking with Leia for as long as he can.

She frowns at the formality of his tone and undoubtedly sees straight through him, but releases her tight grip on his arm. Poe resists the urge to rub the spot where her fingers dug into his skin. He gives a quick salute, then turns on his heel and stalks off before she can say otherwise.

The sterile smell, steady beeps of heart monitors, and soft whirs of Binary coming from the med-droids in the medbay are almost comforting, and that definitely speaks volumes about how fucked up the past few months have been. Running on autopilot, he opens the door to Finn’s temporary room, only freezing when he spots Rey in his chair.

Poe’s brain short circuits for a moment, and he feels silly when his first thought is that she’s in  _ his _ chair. Poe opens his mouth to say something, but when nothing intelligent makes it’s way from his brain to his mouth Rey stands and envelopes him in a warm hug. She smells of the ocean and pine trees and smoke from a fire. As he rubs her back, he realizes that the knobs of her spine aren’t as prominent as they were when she left three months ago. Poe pulls back to get a better look at her, and Rey looks healthy, strong, and confident. It’s more than he or Finn can say for themselves; Finn, while healing at a remarkable rate, is confined to his bed. He’s still in pain, but when Poe looks to gauge the other’s expression he’s sees nothing but pure, unfiltered joy. Poe looks back to Rey, and there’s something about the set of her shoulders and the stubborn look in her eyes that feels overwhelmingly familiar--but the feeling vanishes when she grins, cheeks dimpling. Her grin falters when she gets a good look at him and  _ Mother of Moons, why was everyone giving him that look lately _ ? 

Poe turns and leaves the room, before she can ask the question he sees brewing just below the surface. He returns a moment later with a stolen chair in hand. Poe sets it down on the other side of the bed and collapses into it. Rey is already speaking before he has a moment to catch his bearings, and in the face of Finn and Rey’s enthusiasm Poe feels decidedly old for the first time in his life.

It’s ridiculous, of course, seeing as he’s only 32. But he tunes into Rey’s uncharacteristic chatter, to catch her saying, “--I didn’t say anything because I wanted it to be a surprise and--” She trails off mid-sentence, curiosity in her expression, and he feels the gentle nudge of something against the barriers of his mind-- _ and oh, hell, not this again, no way _ . It’s something he hasn’t felt in years; brazen curiosity coupled with unbridled power, and Poe realizes that Rey is probing with the Force, trying to get a better read on him. She’s not doing it on purpose--the Force must be an unruly tangle of energy in her still, reaching out to everything and anything it can explore. Ben was that way too at first, and he’d always give Poe that innocent, disarming look--he sees it mirrored back at him now, across the room, Rey’s mouth opens slightly, embarrassment causing her to flush to her roots. She reigns the tendrils of the Force back in, realizing what she’s just inadvertently done.

Sudden understanding hits him then as Poe meets her dark eyes, really takes in the sharp angle of her jaw, high cheekbones and strong line of her nose. He hadn’t taken in her appearance much before she left; there hadn’t been time. But now Poe sees it, and his first reaction is anger towards Leia for not telling him sooner.

Finn snaps him out of it, oblivious to his sudden epiphany, as he asks, “Are you okay? You look like you’ve just been trampled by a herd of Bantha.” 

Poe tears his gaze away from Rey, still unsure of what’s just transpired between them, and uses Finn’s question as an opportunity to cover up what his mind is really working through. “I just got back from escorting a refugee ship this morning. We were attacked when we arrived. We had visuals on Ben. He’s definitely alive, healed and walking around.”

A grim silence descends on the room at the news, and Poe has the grace to look guilty for crushing the formerly optimistic atmosphere. Finn breaks the silence, head tilted to the side, and asks, “You always call him Ben. Did you know him before...well, y’know.”

_ Before the Dark side got him _ , are the words that go unspoken.

Poe takes a steadying breath, and shakes his head. “No. I met him once or twice, but that was it.” The lie is frighteningly easy, and for a moment he thinks he’s gotten away with it until Rey blurts out, “You’re lying.” Maybe she sees it in his face, or maybe she senses it in his heart, but her assessment is confident.

Finn looks between them, expression caught somewhere between surprise and confusion and Poe...Poe can’t do this. He can’t.  _ Not now, not ever,  _ he thinks dimly, grabbing his helmet and pushing himself out of his chair, legs shaky. Chest tight with anxiety and a sprinkling of fear, he leaves the room, then the medbay, feet carrying him towards the HQ building.

It takes every inch of self control he has to not turn and head straight for the hangar, but he’s angry and tired and the guilt that he’s kept hidden for so long slides down his spine like molten lead. It finally settles in his stomach, and Poe has to fight it when his small breakfast threatens to work its way back up. 

Maybe it’s time to finally deal with this. Maybe then he’ll be able to sleep through the entire night instead of laying awake, replaying every memory in his head, trying to figure out if there was a defining moment that caused Ben to turn away from the Light, or if it was a gradual transition into Kylo Ren. Maybe this is the first step towards focusing on the Light he has in front of him, instead of what might have been. Maybe this is his chance to stop running and running and trying to atone for the guilt he’s placed on his own shoulders.

_ Maybe _ , he thinks for the first time,  _ this isn’t all his fault _ .

The guilt in his stomach answers back, fighting that notion, stomach clenching and nausea overcoming his senses. Something deep inside him laughs, dark, and Poe thinks that he still can’t justify forgiving himself.

_ Maybe _ , he thinks instead, _ it’s time to ask for help _ .

Poe draws in a deep breath, straightens his spine, and marches with purpose towards General Organa’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the lyrics of Flesh and Bone by Keaton Henson. How very hipster of me, I know.


	2. hope is the thing with feathers (or in this case, steel wings)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The photograph is old, a bit worn around the edges. Ben is in his robes, with a Padawan haircut that looks painfully awkward. Poe tears his gaze away, but he wonders if the Ben in that photo had gone to the Dark side yet or not. Was it already too late at that point? That uncomfortable train of thought is interrupted by Leia’s even voice, “You came to see me?”

By the time Poe’s hand is poised to knock on the General’s office, he’s completely lost any resolve he had minutes before. He’s seriously considering just leaving, but Leia opens the door at that moment and he feels paralyzed. Poe slowly lowers his hand, and marvels at Leia’s ability to make him feel like he’s thirteen and just been caught trying to sneak into the hangar.

Neither of them speak, but Leia, graceful as ever, simply stands aside and waves him in. Poe could leave right now, and avoid this entire situation. He could.

But there’s something in the way that she smiles at him that reminds him a bit of his mother, and he caves inside. Shoulders slumped in defeat, he enters the office, and takes a seat. There are maps scattered across her desk, a battered, personal-sized holoprojector on one corner, and a large cluster of photographs in frames on the other.

Leia catches him gazing at a photo of Ben--a much younger Ben, before…Before. Poe can never finish that sentence, in his head or out loud, so he’s taken to simply thinking of that time as Before. It’s easier. 

The photograph is old, a bit worn around the edges. Ben is in his robes, with a Padawan haircut that looks painfully awkward. He has an arm slung around another young man at his side. The other person has a fresh, military haircut, and dusty brown skin. They’re both grinning brilliantly, despite the cuts and scrapes and bruises adorning their faces. Poe almost doesn’t recognize the young man at Ben’s side; he can’t remember feeling that happy, but he knows undoubtedly that it’s him. The New Republic cadet uniform with the patch on the front reading ‘DAMERON’ gives him away. He doesn’t remember the photo being taken, but he remembers that summer; Ben left soon after with Luke to complete his training, while Poe left for the New Republic Pilot Academy. Poe tears his gaze away, but he wonders if the Ben in that photo had gone to the Dark side yet or not. Was it already too late, at that point? That uncomfortable train of thought is interrupted by Leia’s even voice, “You came to see me?”

Poe swallows, compartmentalizing his anger into frustration which requires far less energy to manage. “You didn’t tell me about Rey.” And though he doesn’t mean for them to, the words sound accusatory and slightly bitter as they leave his lips.

He’s not bitter. He’s not.

Well, maybe he is. Just a little.

Leia pinches the bridge of her nose, then leans back in her chair. He sees the grief in her face, and wonders how she hasn’t cracked under it.

Before him is a woman who’s lost her entire home planet, both her biological and adoptive parents, her partner, and her son. She even lost her brother, though that was (thankfully) only temporary.

His own problems feel decidedly small in the face of all that, but Leia has always had a way of making someone feel the exact opposite. She’s a great listener, and she’s been there for Poe longer than his mother ever was. Leia is unfailingly kind, and she’s always ready to set aside her own problems to help him work through his.

The silence stretches on, so he asks quietly, “Is she--...are they…?”

Leia lets out an unexpected laugh then, and fixes him with a weary gaze. Her mouth is quirked into a wry smile, as she says drily, “I think I’d remember if I had two children instead of one, Poe. My pregnancy with Ben was full of complications so we decided that one child was enough.” 

Poe flushes scarlet, feeling extremely foolish, and looks down at his lap. She continues on with, “I’ve only known since she showed up.” A pause, then further explanation, “She’s the spitting image of Padme, and she has the same dopey grin as my brother.” Poe looks up sharply then, and she lets him work through it for a few moments to reach his own conclusion.

Poe remembers long summers split between Yavin 4 and wherever the capital of the New Republic was that year (and consequently, where the Solo family was living). He spent far too much time practically alone on Yavin 4 as a child, eagerly drinking in his grandfather’s stories of the Jedi, the War, and fantastical far off places. Finally finding a friend in Ben Solo had felt a little bit like salvation.

When Poe was 13 he spent his first whole summer with his father, Ben, Han, and Leia. His grandfather had passed away earlier in the year, and his father had never been quite the same since his mother died. Kes Dameron was kind, though he rarely spoke of the war and the distance between him and Poe seemed too great to build a close connection. While he had retired from the Pathfinders, he still worked closely with Han and Leia. Kes Dameron used his status as a decorated war veteran to built a reputation as an efficient ambassador of the New Republic.

While Kes worked with Han and Leia, Poe and Ben spent their time exploring Endor (the capital of the New Republic that year). Ben, now 11, had been taken as Luke’s Padawan the year before. Curiously, Luke had given him the summer off to practice meditating and honing his skills on his own.

Luke was not on Endor--Luke was nowhere to be found, though it was not unusual for him to disappear for months at a time in the past. Nobody questioned it, and when fall rolled around he reappeared, Ben’s training resumed, and Poe returned to Yavin 4.

As they headed into their late teens, they were met with cryptic answers from Luke whenever they questioned his whereabouts, so they finally gave up asking him what he had been up to. Maybe it was some sort of confidential political mission. Who knew.

But Poe, now 32, feels like he’s suddenly been handed a missing puzzle piece. Quickly doing the math in his head, hazarding a guess at Rey’s age, he says in amazement, “She’s Luke’s daughter?  _ That’s _ where he was always going off to during the summer?”

Leia, who was patiently waiting for him to put two and two together, gives a small nod. She folds her hands neatly together on the table, and says primly, “As you can imagine, Luke had a lot of explaining to do this morning.”

Poe can’t help it; he lets out a quiet snort of laughter. He doesn’t envy Luke--he knows from experience just how terrifying Leia can be when she wants information. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he questions, “Wait. Does Rey even know? What about Ben?”

The average person wouldn’t catch Leia’s nearly imperceptible flinch at the mention of Ben’s name, but Poe has known Leia since he was very small, and he’s sure his reaction to Ben’s name is pretty much the same these days. She takes a deep breath in through her nose, like she’s trying to fend off an impending headache, then says, “No. It’s not my place to tell her, nor is it yours. Understood? Luke wishes to wait until she’s finished her training. He doesn’t want there to be any distractions.”

It’s clear that she doesn’t agree with the decision, but she’s just barely refraining from voicing her feelings on the matter. Poe gives a small nod, and the awkward silence between them resumes. Leia has always been a politician first and she’s got him exactly where she wants him. He feels an impending talk about Feelings, which he has desperately avoided for some time now. He considers fleeing the office, but Poe is pinned under the weight of her concerned gaze.

He’s not going to unload his problems onto her, not when she’s already lost so much. He won’t twist the knife in deeper where Ben is concerned.

“Have you had a psych eval since your encounter with Ben?”

Kriffing hell, Leia certainly wastes no time in going for the throat. Poe ducks his head as shame makes his heart beat faster, hands clammy with sweat.

“No.”

“Some of the other pilots reported that you’ve spent many of your nights in the hangar, working on your ship. Are you having nightmares?”

Poe swallows, only able to weakly nod his head.

“They also reported that you’ve frequently missed meals at the mess hall since your return. Is this true?”

Damn them. Damn every single one of them for ratting him out. Of course he doesn’t really mean that, underneath it all. But at this moment he can’t help but feel like both of his squadrons are full of traitors.

“Yes.”

Leia leans forward in her seat, and Poe instinctively looks up at the moment. He feels sick; he knows what’s coming next, he can sense it, but he still isn’t prepared when she asks softly, “Poe, what did he do to you?”

If it were anyone else, Poe would calmly stand, collect his helmet with shaking hands, and leave. But Leia is looking at him with those kind eyes, worry coloring her expression, and he decides that she deserves the truth. If the truth is what she truly wants, he can at least give her that.

His hands automatically clench, as he tries to put his encounter into words. Poe’s tongue darts out to wet his lips nervously, and he starts out in a cautious voice, “I almost didn’t believe it was him at first, not when he was wearing that stupid mask. He pretended he didn’t know me.”

_ Deep breath in, deep breath out _ , Poe coaches himself, then continues, “He wanted to know where the map was. He could’ve taken the information from me--he’s powerful enough to just rip it out of my head.”

Leia wisely stays silent, letting the painful story tumble from Poe’s lips at his own pace.

“He took everything. All the memories, all the feelings, _ everything _ , and threw them back at my face. Mocked me for all of it. Said that the Ben Solo I knew was dead and it was my fault because I left.” Poe is shaking now, and he drops his face into his hands. “After that I was practically begging him to take the information about the map just so he would  _ stop _ .” His breathing is ragged, and he knows he’s unravelling at the seams but the words keep coming and with them all the pent up shame, anger and guilt. “So he took it. But he didn’t stop, he kept fucking around with my head for hours. Every time I try to sleep I can’t because it all just plays over and over in my head like some sick little movie and I can’t--I can’t do this, I can’t face him again,  _ I can’t do it-- _ ”

Poe isn’t sure when Leia moved from around her desk to stand in front of him, but her presence cuts through the panic and horror and he’s able to swallow down the rising bile in his throat. She takes his clammy hands in her warm, dry ones, and pulls him to his feet. Leia envelops him in her arms, and Poe buries his face in her shoulder, unable to muster any embarrassment. Leia’s rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles, and he’s able to finally suck in a full breath, his own arms hanging limply at his sides.

“I’m sorry.” Poe finally whispers. Leia immediately pulls back and holds him at arm’s length, expression stern. “For what? For doing your job? For Ben, against all rhyme and reason, choosing the Dark side? You’re as stubborn as your father. Poe Dameron, you listen to me.” Her voice is gentle, if not slightly exasperated. 

“It’s not your fault. None of it is.” There’s a commanding quality to it and he’s suddenly reminded that she’s not just Leia--she’s General Organa of the Resistance, and if she thinks it’s not his fault, then maybe, just maybe, he can believe that too.

Poe isn’t quite there yet. He’s got a long way to go, and he’s been putting off confronting his self-inflicted guilt for so long that it’s easier to just forget it’s there--at least, until Ben dredged it up from the depths of his heart and rubbed his face in it.

“Okay.” Poe says weakly, but he doesn’t mean it. Not yet. Leia fixes him with a warning look, ruffles his hair ( _ kriffing hell, he’s 32 and a Commander, he’s too old for  _ **_hair ruffles_ ** ). Leia takes a deep breath and says the words he’s always dreaded, “I’m grounding you. I’m stripping you of all your duties as Commander, effective immediately.” Poe can’t help it, he lets out a pained noise of protest. She holds up a finger before he can say anything, and says, “You’re going to go by the medbay, where they’ll do a psych assessment, and at the very least give you something to sleep. And in the morning you’re going to get in that tiny freighter of yours and leave the base. I don’t want you to come back until you’ve found some measure of peace.”

Protest is futile when Leia has that gleam in her eye, so his shoulders merely sag, and he turns his dejected gaze to the floor. “You deserve to find peace and forgiveness, Poe. Unfortunately, that’s something I can’t give you. It’s something you have to find within, which you won’t do here.” Leia gently puts her hand under his chin, and pushes his head up so his eyes are no longer on the ground. “There was a time,” she begins, her gaze softer than he’s seen it in years, “When Han and I were  _ certain _ you would be our son-in-law.” Poe’s reaction is almost comical surprise, and she laughs in response. 

Her smile is sad as she says, “Your mother told me to look after you when she passed. Your father too, when his time came. I’ve been your commander and watched over you in that capacity for quite some time now.” Poe can’t help but feel uncomfortable and a little embarrassed as Leia continues, “But in my attempt to not seem like I was playing favorites with you, I’m afraid I haven’t lived up to the promise I made your parents. Let me do that now. Go. Come back when you’re ready. I promise this isn’t a punishment. Your rank and squadrons will still be here when you get back.” Leia pauses then adds, eyes twinkling with mischief, “And I dare say Rey and Finn will be, too.”

Poe’s cheeks burn, and he can’t help but roll his eyes. To avoid any more awkwardness, he grabs his helmet, takes a deep breath, and says simply, “Alright.”

He turns to leave, but pauses in the doorway. “Thank you. I think.” Poe says, flashing Leia a tired, small grin. She mirrors it back at him, and waves him away.

Poe quietly shuts the door behind him, and starts off back in the direction of the medbay. 

After the dreaded psych assessment, he needs to pack.

Poe can’t help it when that awakens a small, excited part of him--for the first time in years there’s no mission, no impending disaster, just open skies and an unknown destination.

And that? That feels a little bit like hope.


	3. no sign from above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s already out in the hall, eager to find BB-8 and get the hell out of this place, when Maz’s voice calls to his retreating back, “I think you know where you must go. But tread carefully--do not become so blinded by what might have been that you cannot see what could be, my child.”

In the end, Poe doesn’t say goodbye. He can’t face the worried looks, or the questions that he doesn’t have answers for. So he packs his bags, stocks the ship, and leaves D’Qar the following night. BB-8 doesn’t understand why they must leave Friend-Finn and Friend-Rey behind, but she comes with relatively little complaint.

It’s good to be behind the controls of a ship again, even if it’s a XS-400 freighter and not his X-wing. The ship is as old as he is, but he’s already cycled out half of the stock parts in favor of modifications. It’s fast, as far as freighters go, and relatively comfortable for three people on long journeys. Poe doesn’t fly it as often as he’d like due to the war, but when he does an unmistakable surge of pride swells in his chest. His grandfather taught him the value of making something with his own hands, and this ship is definitely a testament to that.

Poe can’t remember when he last had time off. Real time off, time to go and explore and do what he pleases. He joined the New Republic because of his mom, but also because of his desire to see the galaxy. The military was his ticket off of Yavin 4 and out of the Outer Rim Territories. It wasn’t a plan he thought all the way through--sure, he got to see different planets and parts of the galaxy, but it was always from the cockpit of a ship. The Resistance is the same, if not worse. They’re desperate, and as a Commander, Poe works long hours that bleed into days, then weeks--where he doesn’t have a single break. 

Now that the galaxy is unfurled in front of him, he’s not entirely sure where he wants to go. Poe isn’t the type of man who just relaxes. His mind and hands are always restless and he realizes that he needs to be doing something to calm his thoughts and begin to make sense of them. Which is how he finds himself on Takodana several days later, sweat trickling unpleasantly down his neck as he helps a male Weequay push another large piece of rubble out of the path. Poe rests bent over with his hands on his knees, then fumbles for the canteen strapped to his waist. Maz Kanata’s castle has seen better days, but with the help of various smugglers it’s slowly being returned to it’s former glory. Poe had stepped off his ship and immediately been wrangled into helping rebuild. He never protested--especially since he led the counter-attack on the First Order, causing most of the damage.

Poe uncorks his canteen and downs the rest of the water in one gulp. He pushes his sweat soaked bangs out of his face, taking a moment to just stare up at the blue sky above him. Water is his first priority if he’s going to get through the rest of the day, so Poe turns and heads towards the entrance. He ducks and narrowly avoids being hit as a bantha swings its great head around. There’s a small herd of them, being utilized by the smugglers to pull the larger chunks of stone. Poe grins, and reaches up to scritch behind the great hairy beast’s ears. When it lets out an appreciative bellow, Poe turns and heads through the crumbling entranceway.

The atmosphere isn’t as loud as he remembers it--many of the cantina’s regulars are working outside. But a few, exhausted individuals sit inside, greedily sucking down water while enjoying the temporary reprieve from the sun. He hands his canteen to the bartender to re-fill, and he takes a long drink when it’s back in his hands again. Poe wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and he’s about to head back outside when tiny fingers grasp his wrist.

Startled, Poe looks down and meets Maz’s gaze. He won’t deny that it’s a bit eerie; her eyes, amplified almost double in size by her goggles, make her seem as though she’s looking straight through him. From what he’s heard and experienced of Maz, it’s likely that she is. “Look what we have here!” Maz crows, using her iron grip on his wrist as leverage to jerk his body down to her height. 

She peers at him through her goggles, then reaches up to push the lever and swap the lenses out. Her eyes are suddenly even larger, and despite the awkward position his back is in Poe can’t bring himself to look away. After several, awkward moments, she releases him and says, “The Force has it’s hand on you. It calls to you. But if you’re anything like your grandfather, you’re too stubborn to listen.” 

Maz winks at him, then turns and gestures for him to follow. Poe looks around, bewildered by the short exchange. 

“Hang on--you knew my grandfather?” Poe calls, and immediately scrambles after her. BB-8 will find him if something goes wrong, and last time he saw her she was communicating with one of the serving droids in a rapid series of whirs and beeps that were too fast for him to keep up with. Maz leads him down a set of stairs, and disappears through a beaded curtain into a dimly lit room. The air is damp and heavy with something he can’t name in the basement, and something about the place makes him instinctively want to run. Poe hesitates at the entrance, then pushes past the strands of beads into the room. He squints in the gloom, through the haze of incense, and sees that Maz is bustling about making what looks like a pot of tea. Poe carefully unlaces his sturdy boots, and leaves them to take a seat. He settles down cross-legged on a bright orange floor cushion, and breathes in the smoke. It makes his eyes water and smells maddeningly familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

Maz pushes a cup into his hands, and he tentatively sips at it. She sits opposite from him, and Poe feels decidedly small under her scrutinizing gaze. He’s almost thankful for the little table between them, as it keeps Maz from totally invading his personal space again. The tea tastes of mint, and he takes another sip. 

Poe is about to break the uncomfortable silence, when Maz leans forward and says, ”The path of the Jedi is the path of few, and it so often ends in tragedy.” Ben’s face flashes unbidden in his mind, and he bites his lip. “Not all who are sensitive to the Force’s ways become Jedi. Your grandfather chose a different path, one that frequently crossed mine.“

Poe knows a little of his grandfather’s history, though his stories rarely centered on himself. He was a smuggler, and he helped refugees settle on Yavin 4 and other Outer Rim planets during the war. “Instead of harnessing the Force, like a Jedi would, some simply allow the Force to flow through them into the world. Your grandfather was this way, as am I. I am merely a conduit; I listen to the Force, and try to guide people towards peace.”

Poe stares at her, stunned by the revelation. His grandfather was Force-sensitive? His grandfather was secretive, often skirting around parts of his past. As a kid he never thought to question it. Slowly, the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. He can remember long mornings spent meditating with his grandfather, trying to still and quiet his mind before he set about his day. It was their daily ritual, something they did together until the day he died.

Maybe his grandfather knew Poe would follow in his footsteps, and instead of simply trying to calm a hyperactive 12 year old he was training Poe for something so much bigger. He subconsciously leans in, hanging on Maz’s every word.

“The Force called to Rey, and saved her from that desert wasteland. It called to Finn, and saved him from the First Order. And now, I can hear it calling to you.” She jabs her finger into his chest, and Poe gives her a confused, slightly alarmed expression in response. “But what is the Force saving  _ you _ from?” The seriousness of her expression and tone catches him off guard. 

Poe clears his throat uncertainly, and admits, “I don’t know.” He sets his tea on the table, and she allows him to ponder the question for several long moments. He wasn’t even aware that he needed saving.

Maz puts both her hands on the table, and uses it as leverage to lean in and say quietly, “Perhaps it is saving you from yourself.”

The notion sounds so ridiculous that he wants to laugh, but something about the intensity of Maz’s gaze tells him that this is no laughing matter. Poe’s eyebrows knit together, his mouth curved downward. “What do you mean?”

Apparently satisfied that she’s gotten his attention, Maz leans back so that she is sitting comfortably on her cushion once more. “I have found that the Force propels us all towards one common goal: balance. Your heart is weighed down by guilt and grief.”

_ It’s not an untrue assessment _ , Poe thinks bitterly. The conversation has become heavy uncomfortably fast, and he’s starting to wonder why he thought coming to Takodana was a good idea. 

Maz considers him, then reaches forward and takes one of his hands in both of her much smaller ones. She closes her eyes, and taps one finger in the center of her palm. Something feather light brushes at his subconscious--inquiring, but not invasive. It still takes every ounce of his self control to not recoil right then and there. Maz hums, expression screwing up in distress. “So much Light flows through you, but it flickers like a candle in the face of the Darkness. Your hands are too heavy to shield it for much longer. You must find balance, or the Darkness will continue to feed on your pain until it snuffs you out.”

Poe can’t help the shiver that runs through him at that, and he reflexively jerks his hand back to his chest. Maz regards him, utterly still and clearly unphased by his reaction. “The Light cannot afford such a loss when the Force’s balance tips precariously towards the Dark. You _ must  _ find balance, Poe Dameron. If not for yourself, then for those around you.” His heart is beating so violently in his chest that he has to focus on breathing deep and slow. Maz’s words don’t sit well with him--the Light can’t afford to lose him? He’s just a pilot for the Resistance. He’s not a Jedi, or a Skywalker, or someone of any importance where the Force is concerned.

But after learning of his grandfather’s experience with the Force, he’s not so sure.

“You have fought in many battles, Poe Dameron. But sometimes the most difficult battle to fight is the one you wage against yourself. You cannot hope to do this alone. There are others who would aid you in this task; they can shield your Light from the Dark, until you are balanced enough to do so yourself. All you have to do is let them in.”

_ Who? Who would help  _ **_me_ ** _? _ Poe wants to ask, but the experience has set him on edge and he doesn’t want to prolong the conversation any further. Heavy with all the new knowledge, Poe decides it’s time that he leave. He thinks that he’s had enough cryptic advice for today, so he gets to his feet, gives a polite bow, and starts to put his boots on. “Uh. Thank you for the advice.” Poe says hurriedly, stumbling over his words as he quickly tightens the laces on his boots. 

He’s already on the stairs, eager to find BB-8 and get the hell out of this place, when Maz’s voice calls to his retreating back, “I think you know where you must go. But tread carefully--do not become so blinded by what might have been that you cannot see what could be, my child.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Level Up by Vienna Tang. Thanks for all the positive feedback, I didn't think so many people would like my rambly story!


	4. why wouldn't you want it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe’s first hour on Corellia is a veritable shit show, in which he is (nearly) mugged and gets propositioned by no less than three different sex-workers. He comes back to his ship to find his fuel line cut and half his fuel gone, and to top it all off, he’s pretty sure his nose was broken in the earlier scuffle.

Poe spends the next few weeks bouncing from planet to planet, catching up with old friends and putting D’Qar completely out of his mind. He knows his end destination, but he continues to put it off, pushing his eventual visit farther and farther into the future. It’s almost...nice, in a way, to simply forget everything for a while. Poe, against his better instincts, sticks it out on Takodana through the end of the week to continue helping the restoration crews. Thankfully Maz keeps her distance.

After his departure from Takodana, Poe spends two and a half weeks on Kashyyyk under the hospitality of Chewbacca and his family. The Wookie’s wife, Mallatobuck, passes the first few days fussing over him and insisting that he’s too thin--how on earth does he stay warm without any fur or meat on his bones? So Poe laughs, and takes another helping of her hearty stew and coarse bread, enjoying the warm atmosphere while Chewbacca and his son, Waroo, argue over the merits of the Millennium Falcon. Poe exchanges an amused glance with Mallatobuck, but wisely remains quiet.

Poe sits in on several political meetings with Chewbacca over the course of the next few days, primarily discussing the alarming rise of Terentateks and other Dark creatures in the Shadowlands below. There’s talk of limiting public access to even the Third level, while Chewbacca strongly advocates for organizing hunting parties to keep the creatures at bay. They also speak of the growing political unrest in the Mid Rim territories, but that just reminds Poe of the Resistance and he quietly leaves the meeting when they break for lunch.

When Poe isn’t with Chewbacca, he spends his time wandering among the tree-tops (with the stern warning to not venture further below). He tries to meditate a few times, but each time he lets his mind wander out among the trees and to the forest below something unmistakably Dark scratches at his subconscious and the sensation is so jarring that he abruptly loses his focus. Unnerved, Poe dedicates the rest of his day to giving BB-8 a thorough deep clean.

It takes him nearly two hours to finish cleaning and apply a fresh coat of polish to the droid's exterior. 

BB-8 gives an impressed whir, preening, _ R2-D2 will be very impressed. C-3PO better look out. _

Poe throws his head back and laughs.

At night they frequent the local cantina, where Poe tries his hand gambling at a few Wookie games (he loses, miserably, much to Chewbacca’s roaring amusement). On Poe’s last night, they pour one out for Han Solo. They stay up until the early hours of the morning, while Chewbacca recalls his many adventures and exploits with Han. Poe knows Chewbacca is embellishing parts of each story, but he just grins over the rim of his cup, leans back in his chair, and let’s Chewbacca’s excited roars and grand hand gestures wash over him.

And even though the sun is starting to shine in through the window when he finally stumbles back to his room and collapses in his bed, Poe goes to sleep smiling.

Poe’s first hour on Corellia is a veritable shit show, in which he is (nearly) mugged and gets propositioned by no less than three different sex-workers. He comes back to his ship to find his fuel line cut and half his fuel gone, and to top it all off, he’s pretty sure his nose was broken in the earlier scuffle.

Once he’s cleaned himself up on his ship, he leaves the spaceport and goes to explore Tyrena. It’s the warm season on Corellia, which means tourists have flocked to the planet in droves to visit the Gold Beaches and experience all the outdoor entertainment that Tyrena has to offer. Poe has only ever visited Coronet, the capital city, so he plays tourist for the first few days on the surface streets of Tyrena.

Poe, eventually having had enough of the hot sun overhead, ventures into Tyrena’s massive underbelly about a week into his stay. There are dozens of bars, brothels, and places to gamble, all under the control of Groola the Hutt. Groola is a bit more forward thinking as Hutts go, and slaves are outlawed under his domain. A well-paid cleaning crew works night and day to keep the massive network of paved tunnels and underground passageways clean and really the whole place is almost...pleasant. It only takes him a half hour to get lost, but he eventually stumbles upon a huge market, with hundreds of vendors selling things as innocent as flowers, or as illegal as body parts. Poe gives the butcher vendors a wide berth, but he soon finds a sprawling booth filled with antiques from all over the Galaxy.

After sifting through boxes and boxes of ancient books (finding one bound in what he’s pretty sure is human skin, and another that looks like it was written in blood) he tucks a few books on Rebel strategy and history under his arm for himself. Poe eventually finds an old children’s picture book. He grins at the beautifully intricate illustrations of lightsaber battles, and he’s just barely able to make out the faded word ‘Je’daii’ underneath one of them. The rest of it is written in an ancient language that he has no hope of understanding, but he buys the book anyway. He knows exactly who he’s going to give it to.

Poe finds another booth full of remnants from the Galactic Civil War. Tyrena was occupied by both Rebel and Imperial forces during much of the war, and it was even the sight of a massive amphibious assault from Imperial forces. The Rebels, with their understanding of the city and impressive coastal guns, won out in the end.

A lot of the memorabilia is junk, really. Some old Stormtrooper helmets, ancient blasters that no longer work, and even an old, massive, rusted Rebel coastal defense gun. But what catches Poe’s eye is a bin full of Rebel propaganda; mostly pins and patches bearing the Rebel symbol--now repurposed as a symbol of the Resistance. He thinks of his leather jacket, well, what _was_ his leather jacket, and buys an old patch of the Rebel symbol. It’s big enough to cover the back, and subsequently, much of the damage left by Kylo Ren’s lightsaber. Poe is pretty sure that the jacket’s new owner will be appreciative of the addition.

Poe picks up a few bottles of Agrilatian wine, imported from the northern swamps of Corellia, then eagerly makes his way back out into the sun again. By the time he reaches the spaceport he’s exhausted, ears still pleasantly ringing from the hustle and bustle of the busy city.

While the past few weeks have liberated him from his usual routine, he’s feeling a bit drained and almost...homesick. So Poe spends the night curled up in his bunk, looking through the books he purchased earlier in the day. He’s halfway through a bottle of wine when he realizes that he’s been away from D’Qar for a month and a half.

He finally caves and powers on his datapad, now dusty from sitting forgotten under his bunk for so long. He’s met with a barrage of notifications, and it takes him nearly a half hour to sort through them all.

* * *

**day one**

commander nax is such a hardass and probably the worst temporary replacement they could have found for you. -SW  
ps: thanks for leaving without saying goodbye. dick. -SW

 

Snap is just mad because we don’t get to see your gorgeous face every morning at 04:00. don’t worry. he’s not actually angry, he’s just acting like a jilted lover. so, you know. his usual. -JP

bring us back something awesome, okay? otherwise you’ll have to deal with a whole lot of sulking from mr. drama queen over here. -JP

* * *

**day four**

lover boy is out of medbay. don’t worry, we’re keeping an eye out for him. -JP

i’m hurt and offended that you didn’t personally introduce me to your lovely lady friend. are you holding out on me, dameron? I see how it is. We talked ships for three hours. she picked up stuff on the x-wings ridiculously fast. where did you find her again? -JP

* * *

**day eight**

Uh. Hi? This is Finn, Jess got ahold of some datapads for us so we could message you. General Organa said that you’d probably be offline until you got back but in the off chance that you decide to power it on I just wanted to say that I’m okay. The bacta bandages were amazing. I feel pretty damn good. -F

General Organa didn’t really go into detail but she told us that you’re taking time off to figure things out. Maybe I’m overstepping my boundaries here but um. I hope you’re okay or that you’re at least figuring out how to be okay. I really, really do. -F

rey is a JEDI IN TRAINING and nobody thought to tell the rest of us? nearly had a heart attack when I asked for a wrench while we were working on my ship and found it floating next to me. floating, dameron. how is she even real? -JP

* * *

**day twelve**

Hi Poe, this is Rey. Master Skywalker’s training is taking up every second of my waking hours. I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you sooner. We were pretty shocked when General Organa said you left, and she instructed us to all give you some space. I hope you’re doing well. Be safe. -R

* * *

**day sixteen**

pps: please take care of yourself. i don’t think we can handle commander nax in the long term. or more accurately: he can’t handle us. the dude looks like someone shit in his cornflakes every morning. -SW

* * *

**day twenty-three**

I have a rest day today because tomorrow we’re flying off-world. I’m going to get crystals so that I can build my own lightsaber! We’ll be gone for a few weeks. I don’t think I’ll be able to contact you much during that time. You’re definitely missed around here. -R

I’ve got a surprise for you, so you better come back in one piece, y’hear? -F

Anyway, signing off for a while. General Organa’s decided to put me to work on base. Finally! -F

* * *

**day thirty**

you know I’m not one to get all sentimental, but it’s weird not having you here. I hope you find what you need out there. -SW

* * *

**day thirty-four**

you’ve always been there for us as a Commander and friend. out of all the people in the Resistance, I know I can count on you. I might not know all the details, but for as long as I’ve known you you’ve been weighed down by your past. you’ve never asked for help shouldering it, not once. -JP

I couldn’t watch you go on quietly suffering. you looked like hell, so I went to the General. -JP

you can be mad at me all you want, but if anyone deserves to find peace, it’s you. -JP

* * *

Poe’s eyes burn as he powers off the datapad and hugs it to his chest.

BB-8 lets out a rapid series of concerned beeps, _ Is Friend-Poe okay? Should I chart a course for D’Qar? _

“No, BB. I’m alright.” He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, then shoves the datapad back under his bunk.

 _ Why are you leaking in distress?  _BB-8 inquires, gently bumping into his leg.

“I just...I never realized how much people cared about me as a person, outside of my usefulness to the Resistance. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” Poe lets out a watery laugh, then takes a swig of wine from the bottle.

_ Based on all of your admirable attributes as a Friend, I would confirm that your perception of your self-worth is highly inaccurate, yes. _

Poe snorts, and climbs under his covers. He takes a deep breath, then slowly lets it out, and finally decides to confront what he’s been avoiding all this time.

“BB, I want you to set a course for Yavin 4 in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Chamber by Amber Run.


	5. I can tell you how the story goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe never asked for this. He didn’t ask for the Force and he didn’t ask for all the complications it would undoubtedly bring into his life.
> 
> Luke didn’t ask for it either, Poe realizes, Neither did Leia, or Ben. None of them did. At some point, they were all in the exact same position as him: the power to change the galaxy sitting right in their hands.
> 
> But they always had a choice--for better or worse, the choice to use the Force was theirs to make.
> 
> And now it was his.

The house looks exactly as he remembers it, though the surrounding jungle has reclaimed the area in his absence. Yavin 4 is still undeniably wild, and the low warning call of a Woolamander has his hand on his blaster in an instant. Poe gazes up at the great Massassi trees overhead, and catches a tiny flash of blue before it’s gone.

BB-8’s whirs quietly behind him, _ Should I do a patrol around the perimeter? Are the native fauna hostile? _

Poe looks back at BB-8, and shakes his head. “Woolamanders are territorial, and they could easily rip me to shreds.” He’s seen the mangled remains of a Runyip that came too close to a Woolamander infant. BB-8’s alarmed trill isn’t even translatable, but Poe just smiles. “I know how to strike up a truce with them. My grandfather and I would sit out here and feed them fruit for hours when I was little. They even fought off a Leviathan that tried to attack me.”

 _ This place is not suitable for raising a child. _ BB-8 declares, then adds, _ It explains a lot about your character. _

Poe isn’t sure if he should be offended by that statement, but he chuckles anyway. He turns, feet carrying him through the long grass and ferns in the clearing towards the house. Nothing’s been touched here in years--not since he was last home. There’s a small human settlement on Yavin 4, but it’s a six hour journey from the house by Bantha back.

When Kes and Shara built their home on Yavin 4, it was clear that they wanted a place where they could get away from the rest of the galaxy. It was a shame that they hardly spent any time here together.

Poe comes to a stop at the door, hesitating before he enters the access code on the keypad. The door slides open with a hiss, and Poe carefully walks inside.

There’s no dust on anything, due to the airtight construction of the home, and the overall effect is almost eerie. It all looks exactly as he remembers, everything completely untouched for the last decade. The living quarters is simple; a couch, and an outdated Entertainment Console.

There are several photos on the wall, but Poe doesn’t move closer to look at them. He doesn’t want to be relive them, not yet. Out of habit, Poe takes off his boots and leaves them at the door.

BB-8 hasn’t followed him inside, and he suspects that she’s gone to do a perimeter check around the house. He tries to steady the furious beat of his heart in his chest, but it’s to no avail. He sucks in a deep breath, and moves through the living quarters to the hallway. There’s nothing to see in the tiny kitchen, and he bravely pushes himself forward, to the first room.

It’s their guest room, though after his mother passed they barely used it.

_The rhythmic sound of the ventilator scares him, but his father beckons him forward into the room. Poe creeps in, quietly, because his mother is pale and small and fast asleep in the pullout bed. He’s eight now, and he doesn’t like the look of all the wires and tubes protruding from his mother’s body. He looks to his father for reassurance, but Kes Dameron’s attention is on his wife, his face lined with worry and stress._

Shara Bey was among the first of many pilots to grow sick as the war wound down. The Empire controlled the majority of the planets responsible for supplying fuel to the rest of the galaxy. As a result, the Rebel forces had to get creative. They desperately wound up drilling for oil on Corellia and using the refineries there, producing a very crude form of fuel. It wasn't until much later that they realized the fuel was incredibly toxic. Prolonged exposure to it caused what first seemed like an upper respiratory infection, but it rapidly progressed into full blown lung cancer. Once the New Republic was formed, the refineries were torn down and rebuilt in order to safeguard all future generations of pilots.

Poe touches the panel to the right of the door, glad to shut it permanently for his stay there. His bedroom is the next door, and he takes a moment to steel himself before entering.

The walls of his room are decorated with recruitment and propaganda posters from the Rebel forces. His mother’s face is on the one--her cheeks flushed and full, and he’s hit with the realization that in that photo she’s younger than he currently is. She looks so healthy and fierce and full of life in her flight suit with her helmet tucked under her arm.

Poe swallows, then pads over to the bed and crawls under the covers. The sun is setting outside, he tells himself as an excuse. He’s so drained, and maybe sleep would do him some good. He rolls onto his side, hugging a pillow to his chest.

_His back is warm, the full length of his spine pressed against Ben’s chest. Poe’s New Republic pilot uniform hangs in the closet with Ben’s Padawan robes. Now 22, Poe’s been out of the Academy for nearly a year. Ben, at the age of 20, is already almost prepared to face the Trials and become a Jedi Knight._

_Poe’s first time home in over year is unexpected, and any second he expects to hear his father’s quiet knock on his door, or the low drone of the EC in the living area. The house is silent. He’s exhausted from all the polite smiles, from thanking people for coming, from his speech, from this entire kriffing day. And now, in the safe cage of Ben’s arms, Poe is finally allowed to let his strong facade crumble. Ben’s lips brush against his shoulder, murmuring soft reassurances in his low, soothing voice. Poe doesn’t cry very often, but he can’t help the tears rolling down his face. There’s grief, yes, but anger too. Anger towards his father for being so selfish, for leaving Poe to shoulder it all alone._

_“You’re not alone. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Ben says quietly, one hand coming up to run soothingly through Poe’s hair._

As he lies alone in a bed big enough for two, Poe begins to comprehend why his father made the decision to end it all--to leave the grief behind him. There’s no more anger in Poe now, years later. How can he be angry at his father for finding peace?

BB-8’s familiar whir and series of soft beeps makes him open his eyes. He smiles at the droid, now sitting at his bedside. “Yeah, buddy. I’m okay.” Poe shifts so his back is against the wall, closing the empty space behind him, and he decides that peace can be found in other ways. He won’t make the same choice as his father.

For him, finding peace means confronting the grief he keeps buried. The thought is scary, but he’s already made the first step by going home. So much pain is rooted in this place, and he thinks that maybe he’s ready to finally handle it.

_His grandfather sits on the floor, arthritic fingers deftly weaving together dyed bayal fibers into a colorful mat. Two finished baskets sit at his side, but his attention is on the EC. Coverage of the most recent Imperial defeat plays, and cuts to Leia’s speech. Behind her, he can see Han and his father._

_It’s his mother that notices his entrance from where she lays on the couch. Her small body is covered with several blankets, despite the sweltering heat of Yavin 4’s summer. She smiles, and weakly waves him over to join them. Poe is seven and a half, almost eight, and he clambers onto the end of the couch by his mother’s feet. “Is dad coming home now?” Poe asks, wide eyed and hopeful. She nods, and says, “Yes he--” She doesn’t finish the sentence, her body wracked with violent, wet coughs. Poe’s grandfather places a hand on her shoulder, brows drawn together in concentration. When the awful coughing stops, Poe crawls forward to take her other hand. There’s blood on the handkerchief as she pulls it away from her mouth, but she isn’t able to hide it before Poe sees._

_The memory warps then, and his grandfather turns his head to stare straight at him. “You couldn’t save us.” His mother and grandfather say in unison. His mother sits up and grins, her teeth shifting into sharpened points. Her voice is unnaturally low and rough, as she says, “What makes you think you can save them?”_

Poe jerks awake, panting as though he’s just run through his morning drills. He pushes his sweat-soaked bangs back from his face, attempting to focus on the room around him. Ever since he was tortured on Starkiller base his nightmares had been horrifyingly vivid. Seemingly innocent memories were now warped and shattered into his darkest fears. There’s always that voice--he heard it when he was being tortured for information. It’s scratchy, almost weak, and most certainly _not_ Ben’s. Maybe it’s the Darkness in Ben’s heart--Poe doesn’t know, _doesn’t care_ , as he scrambles out of bed and pulls a light jacket on. A glance out the window confirms that it’s still dark out, but when he checks his watch he realizes that the sun will be rising soon.

 _BB-8 must be plugged into the charging station on the ship_ , he thinks, noticing the droid’s absence in the room. He marches through the house, crams his feet into his boots, and leaves. His body is on auto pilot, but the cool, night air washing over his skin helps soothe his frayed nerves.

Poe treads carefully through the jungle, pushing through branches and vines. It takes nearly a half hour, but he finally finds the overgrown path he was looking for. Satisfied, he starts the long trek up the hill.

He’s fighting the jungle every step of the way with his bare hands. He’s soon sweating and tired, and he pauses to tie his jacket around his waist. That’s when Poe feels it--the faint brush against his subconscious that he latches onto. Feeling relieved that he’s definitely on the right path, he pushes through more vines and stumbles into the clearing.

The tree was always big from the point of view of a child, but it’s grown massive in his absence. Poe simply stands and stares, craning his neck back to look at the wide expanse of branches overhead. The tree’s branches droop, long tendrils brushing against his shoulders. The entire clearing is lit up from the tree; tiny lights wink in and out of existence all around him. There are small holes in the canopy, big enough to see the night sky through, and that’s somehow soothing. The Force calls to him--he can feel it, like a siren’s song, beckoning him closer.

Poe obediently walks forward, gently parting the thick, drooping branches with shaking hands. Everything around him is bathed in a blue-green glow, and the entire experience is so surreal that he feels like he’s somehow walked into an entirely different world. He finally makes it to the trunk of the tree, and it’s grown so large that he could maybe wrap his arms halfway around it.

He slowly lowers himself to the ground, and shifts so that he’s sitting cross-legged. Poe keeps his back straight, and the entire position is uncomfortable but he presses on. He hasn’t done this in an embarrassingly long time--he never liked meditation much, and he could never clear his mind like his grandfather taught him.

Then again, the Force hadn’t called to him yet as a child. Poe suspects that his grandfather was simply giving him the tools he would need in the future when the Force _did_ call to him. Poe takes a deep breath in, counts, then slowly lets it out. In his mind he imagines a door. It’s a simple door, and it always has been--not unlike the silver door to his home. The door never opened for him as a child, no matter how much he tried.

But now, he waves his hand to the side and the door simply slides open. Poe is taken back by how easy it is, but he steels himself and steps through the door.

The Force crashes over him like a wave, but he stands unwavering in the face of it. Poe feels the steady thrum of it in the tree trunk behind him, the slow, even pulse of life in the jungle, and finally, the warm knot of it in his chest.

 _Is this what he’s been missing, all this time? During all these years,_ **_this_ ** _was what he kept buried deep under the guilt and pain?_ He’s struck by the sheer enormity of it, the web of life that extends outward all around him.

There’s always been something missing, but now he feels that piece slot into place. He feels like he’s been holding his breath for years--and finally, finally, he’s able to let it out.

Tentatively he pushes further and further out, tracing tendrils of the Force in the galaxy around him, until he’s hit with something that feels undeniably familiar.

_Poe? Poe Dameron? Is that you? How are you doing thi--_

Poe snaps back to the clearing, blinking a few times to clear his vision. The light has changed around him, sun streaming in through the thick branches above. It’s already halfway in the sky, and he realizes just how long he’s been meditating for.

BB-8’s probably frantic with worry, so he stiffly gathers himself up off the ground and starts making his way back to the house.

\---

Poe climbs up into his ship, and is immediately greeted with a stream of beeps and whirs, which grows so loud that he has to cover his ears.

When BB-8 calms down, he’s able to pick apart what the droid is saying. It mostly consists of swearing, but BB-8 finally says, _ You have received new messages on your datapad. They sound important. _ The droid rolls past him, deliberately zapping his leg before disappearing down the ramp and out of the ship.

Poe rubs his calf, wishing he could go back in time and stop BB-8 from meeting R2-D2. The older droid has been nothing but a bad influence. He sighs, and digs his datapad out from under the bed.

* * *

**day forty-five**

attacks are happening more frequently. the first order is getting desperate. the details haven’t trickled down from the commanders yet, but it sounds like the new republic is reconsidering their ‘neutral stance’. -JP

I’ll believe it when I see it. -JP

* * *

**day forty-nine**

this is technically classified information, but fuck it. if you were home, you’d know anyway. we were able to intercept first order communications. -SW

kylo ren has disappeared. just...gone. we intercepted their command communicating about the sudden disappearance. they’re trying to hide it from the rest of the troops. -SW

I don’t know what’s going on, but it doesn’t sound good. Keep your eyes open, Dameron. -SW

* * *

**day fifty-two**

Poe, this is Rey. Please contact me when you receive this. It’s not...well, it’s not urgent, not exactly. But something isn’t right and I need your help. -R

* * *

**day fifty-six**

Poe? This is going to sound incredibly crazy but I...I think I heard you? Through the Force? I don’t know how it could be possible. I’ve only ever heard General Organa, or Master Luke before. I was meditating and it just happened. -R

Please tell me you’re okay. -R

* * *

Poe lets out a slow breath, and takes a seat on his bunk. The last message has a timestamp from a half hour ago.

When Poe crashed his A-Wing at the age of ten, Luke Skywalker showed him how to fly an X-Wing. Leia Organa brought him to several Senate meetings when he complained about the New Republic never getting anything done. Luke treated him like an equal, and Leia treated him with respect.

All his life he’s been surrounded by these people of myth and legend--he’s watched them move mountains and put everything on the line time and time again to do what’s right. He’s grown up very aware of the Force’s role in the universe, and he’s seen first hand how it can tear people apart. He’s watched good people break apart under the weight of the Force--under the responsibility and expectations that come with it.

Poe is a phenomenal pilot. That’s who he is, that’s what he’s always felt like he was born to do. He’s okay with that. He’s fine with just being ‘Poe Dameron: Pilot’. He’s a good man. He’s someone his parents would be proud of. He’s never aspired to be anything more than what he is now.

Poe sets the datapad aside, and stares down at his hands. He's beginning to seriously question who he is, and what he’s actually meant to do. He never asked for this. He didn’t ask for the Force and he didn’t ask for all the complications it would undoubtedly bring into his life.

His hand shakes when he raises it, but he directs his focus on the pillow resting on the bunk opposite his. Poe closes his eyes, and very carefully, fishes around for the knot of warmth he discovered in his chest earlier. His heart is beating violently as he directs the warmth down his arm to his hand. When he opens his eyes, the pillow is floating in the middle of the room. Poe is so startled that he loses his concentration and the pillow promptly falls to the ground.

 _Luke didn’t ask for it either,_ Poe realizes, Neither did Leia, or Ben. None of them did. At some point, they were all in the exact same position as him: the power to change the galaxy sitting right in their hands.

But they always had a choice--for better or worse, the choice to use the Force was theirs to make.

 _And now it’s my choice,_ Poe thinks, eyes slowly turning to Rey’s last message on his datapad.

He hesitates, before picking the device up. The thing about Luke, and Leia, and all the other people he’s looked up to in his life, is that they never made the choice alone. They had people helping them every step of the way.

The datapad is heavy in his hands, as he types out his first message in nearly two months.

You’re not crazy. It was me. I’m not really sure how it happened either, but...something shifted in me, and I can use the Force. -PD

You mentioned that you need help? I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back to you until now. I’ve been off the grid. Is everything okay? -PD

There’s a long pause before Rey shoots back several messages in rapid succession.

We went to gather Kyber crystals from several planets. Most of the ones the Jedi possessed were destroyed, and Master Luke said that he suspects we’ll be running into more Force-users, so it makes sense to have more of them on hand. -R

Finn came with and...well, that’s more his story to tell than mine. He wanted to surprise you. -R

**USER_Finn has been added to the message thread.**

Hey! So General Organa didn’t actually put me to work on the base. I wanted to surprise you when you got back. Master Luke says that I can use the Force!! So I went with them to collect crystals, too. -F

Hold on. Rey just filled me in on everything. She’s telling me you can use the Force and you haven’t told us until now? Why you gotta hold out on us like that? -F

Poe lets out a laugh, always amazed by Finn’s enthusiasm, and types back,

I didn’t know until now! Besides, I’m not very good at it. I don’t have much training. Maybe I should come with you guys and Luke. -PD

That’s the thing. Master Luke is gone. He said he had some old acquaintances he needed to drop in on, and that he’d meet up with us on Dantooine. -R

He was supposed to be here four days ago. Still no sign of him. Something doesn’t feel right, y’know? -F

We thought maybe you would know where he went, since you knew him before...everything. Right? -F

Poe snorts at that. He has no idea what Luke could be up to, but if he wanted to learn how to use the Force, then they would need to find him.

Besides, the Skywalkers always had a knack for getting into trouble. And if what Snap said about Ben going missing was true...well, that didn’t bode well for any of them.

Poe sighs, then taps out,

I have no idea where he would be. But maybe if the three of us put our heads together, we could figure it out? We should be able to find someone using the Force, right? In theory at least. -PD

Poe thinks of the tree--Luke would sometimes come and meditate under it when he was trying to find the answer to something. Supposedly, it amplified his power.

Tell you what. Set a course for Yavin 4. I’ll have BB-8 transfer the coordinates. When you get here, we’ll see what we can do. -PD

 _Poe Dameron, what are you getting yourself into?_ He thinks first, shaking his head at himself. Then, almost to reassure himself, he firmly says to the empty ship, “It’s the right thing to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to see TFA again before I could finally finish this! Art of the Force tree courtesy of yours truly. Chapter title from Jackrabbit by San Fermin.


End file.
